


Stay with me

by AlicienneOfTarth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Confessions, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Minor Character Death, Post S7, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-13 10:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17486339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlicienneOfTarth/pseuds/AlicienneOfTarth
Summary: Post s7Jaime arrives at Winterfell."Just that first gaze, from afar, once she had recognized him at the doors of Winterfell covered in beard and in the same desperation and their silent exchange had been the last reason that she needed, the sigil to that mutual wordless oath that had always belonged to them."





	1. Us against the world

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is born as a gift for my dear friend Silvia who has read and supported Touch even if she's not a big fan of Modern setting, this is your reward, ily!  
> It's a serie of things that won't probably happen but that I would love to see, a lot of talking and confessions.  
> Reminder: english IS NOT my first language, but,as always, I've tried my best. Be patient, tho!  
> I don't own these characters sadly, even if I would like to own Jaime Lannister very much.  
> Enjoy!

“ _If I say I love you, well, then I love you.”_

If I say-Mumford and sons

* * *

It was contradictory.

She had never felt this warmth, this slow burning flame inside reminding her that she was still alive, that she still felt something, her blood warm in her veins, even surrounded by ice and desperation, even if the tip of her nose was icy.

Just that first gaze, that morning, from afar, once she had recognized him at the doors of Winterfell covered in beard and in the same desperation and their silent exchange had been the last reason that she needed, the sigil to that mutual wordless oath that had always belonged to them.

The moment he had arrived, dozens of eyes had been on him, following his path with suspicious and scorn but he had ignored them, his gait made weaker by the experimented cold but still solemn, feline; his shoulders bumping against every soul who dared to intercept or block his pace until he was in front of her, a few feet apart, breathing heavily, not a word escaping from his mouth.

She had seen it then.

The pain, the tiredness, the signs that marked his face, a perfect mirror of his inner turmoil.

She scanned his body searching for wounds, but then she felt the lure of his eyes again, finding out that his gaze had never dropped from her face.

They stared at each other for a minute, in silence, until she discerned a gleam of hope in his eyes followed by a small twitch of his lips like he was finally ready to say something. She took a step toward him in eager anticipation, closing the space between them, but then, when he was about to talk, the guards arrived, taking him away.

She still hadn’t spoken a word with him since then.

She had spent the afternoon convincing Sansa about his honour, though, spending words she would have never imagined to associate with him; words that made her heart beat faster, that filled her mind with his complexity.

Lost in her thoughts, Brienne found his squire joining her outside.

“Where are you going?” She asked the young man.

“Searching for some wood, My Lady.” Podrick told her diligently. “Now that new guests have arrived, we need more supply.”

She nodded. “Stay near, don’t go too afar, it will be dark soon.”

“Don’t worry, My Lady. I’m well trained anyway.”

She couldn’t hide a small smile, then she looked at him with tenderness. “Come here, Pod.”

He frowned in surprise but then he approached her. She fixed the fur of his cloak patiently, patting him lightly on the shoulder. “Be careful.”

He nodded, smiling and he started walking; after some steps he turned, looking at her. “I’m happy that he’s here, My Lady.”

She smiled, her chin trembled imperceptibly. “Come back soon.”

She found a bump in the snow and she sat there, waiting for his return and lulled by that new warmth.

He was really there.

* * *

Jaime breathed fully, strangely enjoying the cold air in all its clearness; he should have been in his chamber, searching for a solace in the fire, a support in the strong wine, enjoying the relief gained after his conversation with Jon Snow and his court.

They had believed him.

After a long and tedious interrogation, they had believed him. He had repeated the same words, again and again, _sister, betray, army_ and they kept echoing in his mind, even now, like he couldn’t set them aside, like he couldn’t be free, not even for a minute, of their burden.

He should have been inside but once again he had searched for her, needing her presence more than any other kind of solace; because that gaze that they had shared hours before still lingered in his bones, giving him that thrill that hadn’t anything to do with the cold, though.

He found her outside; she sat in the snow, crystals of ice in her longer hair, the same bright eyes and chapped lips.

He approached her, occupying the place next to her.

“What are you doing?” He asked her.

She didn’t seem surprised by his presence.“Waiting for Pod.” She said, meeting his eyes and the intensity in them made him hesitant again.

“You’ve become fond of him, haven’t you?” He asked her teasingly.

She ignored his words, burying a stick of wood stubbornly in the snow.“Will you stay?” She asked him in a whisper after some seconds.

His breath caught in his throat and he dismissed her gaze again.

Between a bunch of strangers questioning him about his arrival, she had been the only one asking him to stay.

He nodded, not trusting his voice and he could discern a small smile playing on her lips.

 

“What were you thinking about?” He asked her then, mimicking her smile. His smiles toward her were different now, he had already noticed it. At the beginning there were smiles of contempt, bitter smiles of derision that had slowly turned into trust, gratitude; now there was sweetness, affection and a hint of fear too.

Fear of failing her, fear of exposing himself  more than necessary, fear of  asking her something  that  she wasn’t quite ready to give him, fear of misunderstanding her.

“Home.” She said in a whisper, trying to hide the rush of emotions that he could clearly discern.

He looked down again distracted by the shapes that she was drawing in the snow.

“How is it?” he asked.

She sighed, interrupting her hand and he chuckled softly, enjoying her impatience. “Tarth is.. it’s the most beautiful island. This is Evenfall, my house.” She said, pointing at what seemed a castle, with her wooden stick.

“Do you miss it?” He asked her, already knowing her answer.

“Do you miss your home?” She asked him instead, turning toward him.

He lost himself in her eyes for a moment, hoping to find a different answer.  “I’m not sure of still having one.” He replied calmly instead .

She looked at him for some seconds with that kind of gaze with which she usually tried to give him a silent comfort and then she resumed her explanation. “This is the great Hall, we usually have the annual ball right here, everything is ready months before and when I was still there, every year I was terrified about it, about what people expected from me, about the behavior I should have kept, what I should have worn for the occasion.”

He laughed at her confession, wondering when it had been the last time he had made that sound and she elbowed him in response.

“Sorry, go on.” He said, still smiling.

“This is the practice yard, or better, my hiding place.” She said, tracing the shape in the snow. “It’s where Ser Goodwin taught me to use a sword.”

“He was a good teacher.”

“He was..I was a fast learner too.”

“Your father will have been proud.”

“He was exasperated.” She contradicted him. “He didn’t want me to become like this honestly, he just wanted to find me a man to marry and to see me finally becoming a real Lady.. I think that, accepting my true nature, he was just trying to soften me up.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really, especially when I broke the clavicle of my third pretender in a duel.”

“Why a duel?”

“He told me I should have started to obey him once married, I made it clear it wouldn’t have happened.”

“I’m glad you did.” He said, without hiding his admiration.

“This is my chamber.” She said, interrupting his stare, suddenly too intense.

“Interesting.” He teased her.

“Shut up.” She said blushing. “I bet yours was at least three times bigger than mine.”

“Probably, but mine was surely less cute, without flowers, dolls and stuff like that, you know.” He said, pointing at some invisible decorations in the snow.

She smiled at his words, hiding the chin in her cloak.

“Everyone has a home.” She said at the end, referring to his previous answer, “or something to call home.”

“I wish it was true.” He said, taking the stick from her hand. He busied himself with the drawing, it was his turn now. He took him more time, due to the impossibility of using the right hand. She stayed in silence during the whole time, like she was respecting his commitment, but her curiosity made her lean down toward it and he could feel her cheek brushing his shoulder in the process until she rested totally against him.

The action made him stop his movements.

“Sorry.” She said immediately, pulling away.

“It’s fine.” He said, hating immediately the lack of her weight against him.

“It’s done.” He said softly, turning around to catch her reaction. She frowned, looking down in the snow.

“Is this Winterfell?” She asked him confused.

“It is.”

“I thought you were drawing your home.”

“I guess this will be my home from now.” He said, looking at her.

She seemed to understand his statement. “I guess it’s mine too.” She said back shyly after some seconds.

“Home is where the heart is, they said.” He added then, but none of them had the audacity to inquire the true meaning of his words.

Podrick came back some minutes later, a triumphant smile covering his trembling teeth.

“Need some wood warming up your chamber, Ser Jaime?” The lad asked him.

“It’s already warm enough, thanks Podrick.. it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Ser Jaime. My Lady, I’ll bring some in your chamber then.”

“Thank you, Pod.”

“Not warm enough?” Jaime asked her teasingly.

She shrugged, dismissing his words and she stood up to follow her squire inside.

“I’ve seen it, you know?” He suddenly said.

She turned around, frowning in confusion.

“Tarth, your island. I’ve seen it.”

She looked at him  for some seconds  and a small tear escaped from her eyes. “I was going in Dorne to bring Myrcella home.” He explained, fighting against the lump in his throat. “Then I’ve seen it, it was big,  a little rough around the edges and proud.. it reminded me of you.”

She smiled.

* * *

They went inside,  after their little shared evasion , finding everybody in the Great Hall; they stopped talking once they entered. Jaime met his brother’s eyes and  he immediately realized that something was wrong.

“What happened?” Brienne asked, her eyes dancing around the room, searching for an answer.

 

“We’ve got some news.” Tyrion said, intercepting Jaime’s eyes.

“What’s happened?” Brienne asked again, more firmly.

“The golden company, lead by Euron Greyjoy, travelling through the Narrow sea, has tried to collect forces during the return to King’s Landing.”

“What forces?” Brienne asked, already knowing the answer of her question.

Tyrion exchanged a sympathetic look with Jaime. “He has attached Tarth, My Lady, he has plundered the island, forcing your father to submit.”

“No..”

“Lord Selwyn has refused and he has been sentenced to death for treason to the crown. He has died this morning, the island now is in Euron’s hands. I’m so sorry, My Lady.”

 

He found her on her chamber, sitting on the bed. Her shoulders were shaking and he realized he had never seen her that way, not even when she was a step away of being raped. He approached her, silently, but she seemed to sense his movements. “I want to stay alone.” She said coldly.

He ignored her, sitting next to her, but she stood up immediately, avoiding his proximity. She sheltered herself in the corner of the room, her back to him, staring at the wall in front of her.

He reached her, stopping a few steps behind her. “Turn around.” He said softly.

“Go away Ser Jaime, please.” She said and he barely recognized her voice this time.

He touched her shoulder delicately like he wanted her to get used to his touch, then he turned her around, more firmly. She slapped his hand away, but he pulled her against him with his right arm, trying to keep her in place. She started fighting against his hold, wriggling between his arms. “Leave me.” She said, “Please, leave me, Ser.” Her words sounded like a contradiction while her movements became weaker. She punched him lightly on the chest, more times, until her fingers crushed his tunic, gripping it tightly and she rested her forehead against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat against her skin and then, lulled by the sound, she yielded to his embrace. He cupped her head, sheltering it in the crook of his neck. Her tears started wetting his skin; they were warm and he realized, once again, how she had become, in every shape, his only source of heat.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered against her temple.

“Why him?” She asked him and he noticed how her fingers were still gripping his tunic. “Why Tarth?”

He didn’t know how many minutes they spent like that, losing themselves in each other’s arms, asking himself who was the one needing the comfort  at that point . 

He realized that there was a lot more in that embrace; he realized that even clouded by the pain, she was the only light that makes him see again.

She interrupted the  contact and  she  looked at him, eyes red and lucid. “It seems that the Gods are trying to take away from me every person that I love..it’s like they’re warning me,  like it wasn’t allowed to me  to get attached or to care  about someone ..”

“It’s nonsense, Brienne.” He interrupted her.

“Everything is nonsense to you, isn’t it?” She asked him bitterly.

He sighed, his  response trapped in his throat,  _you’re not, you’re the only thing that makes sense_ . “I leave you to rest.”  He said instead.

She nodded  not hiding a hint of disappointment , interrupting their gaze.

 

“Don’t leave me.” She whispered. “It’s only you, now.” But he was already gone.

* * *

 

Days passed slowly, mimicking the cadence of the snow outside; Brienne was still mourning and this made her even more distant and unattainable to him, like she was forcing herself away from him for some strange reasons that he couldn’t quite catch. They hadn’t properly talked since when he had arrived in Winterfell, but he couldn’t forget her hurt expression when she had tried to talk to him in the Dragonpit. He had almost been annoyed with her then; sometimes she didn’t seem to realize that he was still a Lannister, that he had a position to keep toward his house or maybe he was the one doubting about it at that point. Because every time he had met her, after months spent faraway, there had always been that urge to leave everything behind, his house, his family, his duty, like she was a guiding light, like she could carry his burdens in the dark, without asking anything in exchange. Their connection had always been silent, hermetic somehow, a connection made of gazes and actions and he wondered if, deep down, he wanted more.

While she kept the distance between them, he noticed, though, how he wasn’t the only one seeking for her affection. The first time he saw the wilding in her company, he tried to ignore the fist in the stomach, the light sweat that greeted his hairline, his hand that kept opening and closing like he was trying to  vent his frustration trapping the air around him. He felt something new, he felt a true claim of possession toward a woman that had never belonged to him; that was the  hindrance of his condition, what right did he have toward a woman so pure, so perfect?

He felt like he could only aim to imperfection.

“Spar with me this afternoon, woman!”

He intercepted the wilding’s words from his spot and he was bewildered when he saw her faintly nodding to him in response.

Then there was only rage, blind rage.

Because if she was the one able to make him see again, she was also the one able to take away the light with a blink.

She left the common room to reach her chamber when he blocked her pace, grasping her wrist a little more forcefully than it was really necessary. “Why are you avoiding me?”

She looked at him, widening her eyes in surprise and she tried to free her wrist from his grasp.

He tightened it in response.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He tried again, articulating each word.

“Leave me.” She whispered and he could discern the pain in her voice.

He released her slowly, still searching for an answer in her eyes. “Sorry.”

She nodded,  escaping his gaze for a moment, but returning to him seconds later, her chin trembling in that childish way he had learnt to love. He couldn’t hold back a small smile. Then, her next words surprised him.

“I can’t lose you.”

* * *

 

When, after some days, King Jon sent him south as commander of a small troop, with some soldiers, with the duty to collect the Lannister army in Riverrun, he was surprised to hear her voice in the council. _“I go with him.”_

He had looked at her at that point, but there wasn’t gratitude in his eyes.

 

It was during the first day of travel, after miles covered in snow, that she interrupted their stillness.

 

“I know what you did.” She suddenly said, breaking the silence. He frowned at her while she kept talking. “In war, on your way to King’s Landing.. when your army faced Daenerys’ one.”

“How do you..”

“A dothraki told me.” She interrupted him.

“And since when you’ve become so talkative?” He asked her sarcastically.

She lowered her head a little. “He didn’t tell me directly.. he was.. he was telling the others and I was around.” She said shyly.

He laughed lightly, trying to ignore her sweet shyness. “Ah of course, I bet that he has invented the majority of that, though, I’m afraid..”

“Why did you do it?” She asked him, ignoring his fragile attempt of lightening the conversation.

He sighed, meeting her eyes for the first time and the honesty that he found in them made him want to be honest in turn. “I wanted to end it.” He said in a whisper.

She held his gaze for a long moment and then she blinked, turning her face away, hiding, without success, how his words had affected her. “You wanted to end it..” She repeated, looking at the ground. “To end what? The war?” She asked now with more anger and then, taking a breath, she added. “Your life?”

“What is a life compared with the one of hundreds of men, civil, innocents..”

“They were soldiers, they knew what was waiting for them.. they were ready to face it.”

“They were ready to face steel, arrows, spears.. not flames, Brienne.” He said, mimicking her anger.; then he took a breath to steady himself and after some seconds he looked at her, a sweet sadness colouring her face and that urge, the one that made him want to give her more, claimed him again.

“There was a moment when the warmth overwhelmed me, I felt dizzy, my mind blurred somehow.. like I was lost in space and in time. Everyone around me, every single one was burning.. the horses were burning.. just ashes and fire and smell, horrible burnt flesh smell and I could only stare in silence, powerless, useless.. have you ever felt that way?”

She shook her head slowly, even if she had felt that way, and not with a lifeless Renly in her arms, but every time she was in Jaime’s presence.

A different surrender, a sweet but still powerless surrender.

“In that moment..” He resumed his talking. “I heard his voice all over again, throbbing in my head, like a reminder, a stubborn and never ending reminder.. burn them all.. imagine what three single words can do. At that point, it wasn’t the queen of the dragons up there, not anymore, it was Aerys, it has always been Aerys and suddenly I just had to kill him again, it doesn’t matter in which form.. kill his specter, kill his memory..not just for me, for everyone else. So, I’ll ask you again, what is a single life compared to hundreds lives?”

She met his gaze and she could discern the same emotion that was overpowering her eyes.

“Your life matters.” She said softly, hiding her trembling. “Your life matters like everyone else.. not less, never less. You’ve always laughed in front of death, haven’t you? You spat insults to Catelyn Stark while you were in chains with a direwolf an inch from your face, you stopped eating once lost your hand like it was the easiest thing to do, you jumped in a bear pit with nothing but a hand, you tried to kill a dragon with a spear. It’s not a joke, even if maybe it’s funny for you. Don’t you see that there’s people who care about you and who need you?”

“Name them.”

 

His words startled her and she fought the urge to tell him that the was nothing else that mattered the most to her. His life.. even away from her, even separate, his life only.

After the first day of journey, they stopped to sleep  in an alcove.  The soldiers were sleeping outside, but she followed him in the natural arc, without needing a word.  They lay down covered in furs, on their sides, facing each other,  facing the tension that was still vivid between them . He looked at her, silently and he was glad when she held his gaze.

“Why did you come with me?” He asked her then.

She looked at him for some seconds and then she lowered her eyes, without answering him.

“ _Why did you help me?”_ Suddenly her words from years before were echoing in his mind like the sweetest memory.

“We both know this is a kind of punitive expedition. You could have stayed in Winterfell, prepare the battle, sleep between warm walls, maybe find solace in the arms of that wilding..then why coming here with me?”

She arched an eyebrow in response.

“Please, do you think I haven’t noticed the way he looks at you?”

“I’m not interested.” She replied absently and he sank his eyes into hers.

“Of course, you’re not. I wonder if there’s something that truly interests you at this point.”

“I thought it was the right thing to do.” She said at the end, changing subject.

“What?”

“Come with you, you would have been alone otherwise. It was the right thing.”

“There’s not right or wrong Brienne.. I thought we were past this. What can be right for you, maybe is wrong for another one.. so no, there’s not right and wrong, there are middle ways, there are shades.”

“It was the honourable thing to do.”

“Oh, right.. it was the right, honourable thing to do, it’s for bloody honour.. it’s always a matter of honour for you, isn’t it?” He asked her with a hint of anger.

“Selfishness.”

He arched an eyebrow at her words.

“I would have spent my nights worrying about you, at least now I know where you are when I fall asleep.” She explained, finding his eyes again.

He opened his mouth to say something but then he closed it. “And do you call this selfishness?” He asked her at the end.

“I call it weakness, nothing honourable, I’m afraid.” She said in a whisper.

He stayed in silence for some seconds, contemplating her words, then he spoke again. “I did the same in King’s Landing..some nights I couldn’t sleep without knowing if you were still breathing.”

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, until she found her voice again. “And how do you call it?”

The reply was on the tip of his tongue, but still not ready to come out. “Not weakness, for sure.. human nature, perhaps?”

“And since when you’re like every other man?” She asked him bravely.

His lips curled in a playful smile. “You’re right, I’m not.” He seemed to collect his thoughts and then he spoke again. “I call it honesty, nothing to feel shameful about.”

She escaped his gaze one more time, closing her eyes.

“Sleep Brienne, I’ll take the first turn.”

She closed her eyes and he kept looking at her until her lips moved slowly. “I care about you, stop trying to make me say it out loud, but I do.” She whispered, her eyes still stubbornly closed.

He didn’t know if her words overwhelmed it to the point that, reacting to an incredible urge, his fingers found her hair and started caressing it lightly, his touch barely there, lulling her to sleep. She opened her eyes after the first touch, startled. “What are you doing?”

“I’m being honest, Brienne.. sleep.”

She did.

From that moment it started this strange dance between them. The days were drawn with silence and wordless comfort, while the nights were coloured in confessions and emotions. It was like they studied each other in the mornings to find themselves in the nights.

  


The second night she had a nightmare. She wiggled in her sleep like she was fighting against an invisible enemy; her words, at the beginning confused, found a coherence in the same litany, _Father, father, father_.

He reached for her, hit by the naturalness of his actions, his hand sneaking around her body to pull her close, his lips finding her forehead. “Shh.” He murmured against her skin, strangely warm. “It’s just a nightmare, wake up.”

“Jaime..” She whispered incoherently.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you.” Her fingers crushed his clothes in that familiar way he had started to crave and his vicinity seemed to relax her until he kissed her forehead and she opened her eyes in confusion. She separated her body from him immediately like she had been burnt and then she stood abruptly, leaving him alone. He followed her movements from his spot until she stopped in front of her horse, her hands busy searching for something in her saddle bag until she found it. He saw her looking at something in her hands and smiling. She sat down on a rock and he followed her immediately.

He sat next to her and she shifted a little to make room for him. He took the object from her hands, brushing her fingers in the process. “My father gave it to me when my brother Galladon died.”

“A star?” He asked her.

She smiled, nodding. “He found this little stone shaped like a star, he told me that there was a star for every person and that all the stars were far enough to the point that our pain could never tarnish them. He told me that Galladon had become a star.”

Jaime smiled at her, then he placed the stone in her hand and he closed it around it. His fingers stayed on hers, caressing her knuckles. “We need to find another one for your father, then.”

She left a tear escaping from her eyes. “Do you think he had forgiven me?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’ve left him.”

“You would have come back at some point, he knew that.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

He stood up, not leaving her hand and then he pulled her upright. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

  


The third night the alcove was smaller, their bodies closer than the previous night.

“Tell me about your sister.” She asked him.

He was surprised when the usual pain didn’t arrive. “She betrayed me, she... she tried to kill me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I should have done it before.”

“What?”

“Leave her. I should have left her before.. that’s what is sickening me the most, I’ve lost time, months, years, following a fucking chimera, believing in something that had never existed.”

“Your love did exist, it still exists.” She whispered back.

“My love has faded.. it has weakened, day after day, fed only by anger, by hurt. What kind of love is that?”

“I’m not the right person to talk about love, I’m afraid.” She replied shyly.

He smiled, hit by a wave of tenderness and his hand moved tentatively to cup her cheek.

“You’re too pure for damaged love, My lady.”

She lowered her eyes to escape his gaze. “I’m allowed to love, though.” She whispered, covering his hand with her own. He was startled by her words and, without thinking, he closed the space between them, shifting toward her. “I wonder if someone worthy of your love still exists.”

She closed her eyes, frozen by his proximity, then she whispered with trembling words.

“If I had been different.. would you have loved me, Ser? If I had been pretty with long hair and small delicate hands, would you.. would you have loved me then?”

His eyes widened in surprise, he opened his mouth to speak but his answer died in his throat. He just stared at her like he was trying to store every detail of her face in his mind until her eyes became glassy and he led her head on his shoulder, her hair brushing his neck.

“When this will be over, I would like to try.” He said against her forehead.

“Try what?”

“To be worthy.”

He kissed her forehead and she fell asleep in his arms.

  


The next day, they fell into an ambush.

 

He could feel her presence behind him, against his back, precise and warm. A warmth between ices that seemed to hit him even harder to due its absurdity. They were surrounded by wights, trapped from every side, just one comfort, each other.

“ _Us against the world_.” He had whispered to her that morning, just awakened, tightening his arm around her trembling body, eyes made heavy and glassy by tiredness and fear; but she hadn’t given away anything, not a tear, not a tremor of the lips, not even when his hand had travelled forbidden under the stares of the other soldiers to interlace his fingers with hers. Just a slight pressure in response to let him know she had always been his.

Every part of his body seemed now to act independently, following no one’s order, because his mind was away, filled by her, by every inch of her body pressed against him, silently praying Gods he had never believed in to never lose the contact.

_If I can feel her against my back, this means she’s still breathing._

His movements were incoherent, messy while he could picture her perfect dance in the back of his mind; perfect even when the end was close.

Their swords clashed against enemy blades and he was reassured to recognise the same sound, like the ultimate blessing of their connection.

For a moment he felt her hand on his hip, her back heavier against him and the pressure made him bent a little, realising just seconds later that she had used his thrust to kick one of their enemies. If they would have been in another situation, he would have found it almost erotic. They switched positions, dancing in circle, being sure to never leave each other’s touch. He tried to stay focus, to plan his strikes while a new feeling was spreading inside him; it wasn’t fear, it was regret.

Something that terrified him even more.

Regret about all the things he had never told her; how she was like a stubborn magnet and he had kept gravitating around her even miles away because her loyalty had changed him forever. How he couldn’t explain even to himself that weird attraction he felt toward her that seemed to grow insanely despite the fact she was the most annoying woman he had ever met. How much he had tried to fight that attraction to the point of having sex with her sister just with the purpose to try to contradict it.

How, in the end, he had surrendered to his feelings because _we don’t choose who we love_ and the cruelty of love had seemed to hit him again.

How many times he had been presumptuous enough to think that he would have been the one to take her virginity; he would have been delicate, like he was managing glass because her external strength was just an unwieldy and contradictory remind of how fragile she was inside. He had imagined her moans of pleasure that were always sweet in his mind because he knew that their first time would have been made by sweetness, whispered words and trembling lips against each other’s body.

He had never told her that those days, covered in mud and tiredness, had been the best of his life; the best ones, because she had made him feel again; feel the hate, the contempt, but then the hope, the trust, the admiration and at last the love.

He hit another wight coming toward him, then he looked around, realizing, defeated, that they had lost. Her left hand encircled his arm, finding his skin under his armature while she leaned totally against his back.

“Stay with me.” She whispered turning a little, her lips tickling his temple. “Stay with me, Jaime.”

Jaime, not Ser or Lord Jaime because they were both naked and equal in front of death.

“Always.” He said, while the circle tightened around them.

He didn’t know how but they survived.

At the end they had survived.

When he turned toward her to make sure she was still breathing, he met her eyes that had never seemed brighter to him. His hand was trembling when he tried to touch her cheek, hating instantly the glove that was making a barrier between their skin; he barely brushed her face when an abrupt piercing pain invaded his shoulder blade, making him freeze on the spot.

“Jaime.” Her voice was barely a whisper. He had just the time to turn slightly and to see on the cliff surmounting them, a White Walker on his horse, a presence made of silence, his spear already stuck on Jaime’s body. His sight was blurry, devoured by the fog but Jaime was just thankful to see him go away, meaning Brienne was safe, his last lucid thought before the end.

“No!” He heard her again while his knees bended against his will, meeting the snow; then he felt her arms, extraordinarily strong around him and he yielded to her embrace.

“Look at me.” She said, raising his face toward her while he could feel her tears wetting his skin.

“Your arms will haunt me forever, Brienne.” He said with a weak smile, collecting all the force he had left to prolong their gaze.

“Stay with me, please.” She begged him and he realized he had never seen her more fragile.

“Always.” He said, mimicking his previous words while his eyelids became heavier. “Brienne..” He said then, raising his hand toward her with the only success to brush lightly her face with his fingertips, “you need to know something..”

“Jaime, no..” She begged again and the defeat in her voice hurt him more than any pain.

“Brienne, I really wanted to try to be worthy.. I..” He tried again. “you need to know that I..” and then the darkness took him away.

 

The first thing  that  she should have thought, feeling his body heavy in her arms,  it sho uld have been: “ _not again_ .”

The truth was that, with him, it had always been different. Renly Baratheon had seduced her with his languid kindness and his always polite smiles. She had surrendered to his charm because he had been the first man to treat her differently. She was sure it had been love, but after knowing Jaime, that past feeling didn’t seem to match the new, terrifying one; she had always felt the greatest gratitude toward Renly and when he had died in her arms, the first feeling invading her soul had been a sense of failure.

Jaime had been different since the first moment. He had insulted her, he had filled her with words of contempt and derision; he had called her ugly, beast, not a woman and she had realized that his insults had hurt her more than they usually did. She had fallen in love with him because his honesty made of cruelty had made her believe there was something else hidden behind; because he had taught her that there wasn’t good without evil, that there were shades and, most of all, that there was always a reason behind every man’s actions. Slowly, that mutual hate had become respect and then trust.

That kind of trust that led to love.

She had screamed for help the second he had fainted in her arms; she didn’t know how they arrived at the Twins, she didn’t remember who had helped them and who had dealt with her screams of horror. She remembered how she had never lost his sight though, like nothing else could exist, how she had slept sitting on a chair with her head on his bed every night, her hand never leaving his own, praying even in her sleep for his awakening. He had raved more than once, hallucinated by the fever and she was sure she had heard her name at some point, thing that she had selfishly enjoyed more than she should have.

The third day, after a young master had cleaned his wound and checked his temperature, she was alone with him.

She started to look at his face, noticing new wrinkles around his eyes that weren’t there before, or maybe she had never had the possibility of looking at him so closely; she brushed them softly with her finger, enjoying that forbidden intimacy; then she traced the length of his nose, ending on his dry lips; she hissed at the dryness there and finding a goblet of water, she wet her own fingers in it and resumed her previous movements, passing her digits on his lips to relieve them.

She startled when he opened his eyes, slowly, scanning every inch of her face.

“Is this heaven?” He asked, gaining his old smugness back.

“As if you would end up there.” She replied half smiling, fighting back her tears.

“Where are we?”

“The Twins, Bronn found us.”

“Bronn?”

“He was heading North, he has collected a small part of the Lannister army that was still here.. he saved us. He took us back here because it was the nearest fortress and you needed immediate help.”

“That spoiled cunt.” He said, smiling affectionately, then he looked at her, sighing. “I thought I had got rid of you, wench.” He said, but there was sweetness in his voice.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” She said trembling, now the tears wetting her skin.

“Stubborn wench.” He said, raising his hand toward her cheek. “Why are you crying?”

She covered his hand with her own, not able to talk, then she shifted his palm toward her mouth and kissed it softly. He was surprised by the gesture at first, almost holding his breath, then, he took control of his hand and he buried it in the hair at the back of her head to pull her close to him, until a few inch separated them.

“I thought I had lost you.” She whispered.

“I told you I would have stayed with you Brienne, I tend to honour my pledges lately.”

She blushed due to his proximity and she lowered her eyes, her fingers circling his wrist.

“Look at me.” He said, forcing her face toward him, but she sighed in response.

“I’m so sorry.” She said and he looked at her confused. “I’ve failed you.” She said at the end.

“What are you talking about?” He said, trying to raise himself from the mattress, ignoring the pain from the wound and wanting desperately to take her face in both his hands. He looked, defeated, at his stump and then he lowered it back on the bed. She seemed to sense his discomfort because she took what had remained of his right arm and put it against her cheek, keeping it in place. “I should have saved you.” She said in a whisper.

“You did. You always did.” He said.

“I should have taken that spear, it was for me.. you’ve covered me, you shouldn’t have..”

“Stop it.” He said, touching her lips with his thumb.

“Nothing’s more hateful than failing to protect the one you love.” She said, lowering her gaze.

He smiled, resting his forehead against her own. “Why, do you love me, My Lady?” He teased her.

“I hate you.” She replied, pushing his forehead playfully and putting some space between them.

“You need to rest.” She said, trying to take some seriousness back. He drowned his eyes in hers, brushing her bottom lip with his thumb. Then his fingers followed her jaw until they travelled to her neck, moving the neckline of her tunic. He caressed the exposing skin, frowning angry at the dark bruises he found there; then he started to pull at the laces of her shirt, slowly, never missing her gaze.

Brienne held her breath in response.

They were lost in each other when they totally missed the presence at the door.

“I.. I’m so-sorry My Lady, I’m here to clean Ser Jaime’s wound. I can co-come back in another moment if this p-pleases you.” The young man said, not daring to move from his spot.

“Yes.”Jaime said immediately.

“No” Brienne said at the same time.“come, please..we were just..” Brienne said, blushing furiously.

“Yeah, I was about to rip her clothes off, lad, but I guess I have to thank you if I’m still alive, after all.”

“Fuck.” She said, glaring at him.

“Language, my lady, a noble woman like you.” He said, pretending indignation.

“I’m still convinced that I hate you.” She said under her breath. “Emmon, he’s all yours.” She said, standing up from the bed.

She was about to walk away when he grabbed her wrist, making her turn.

“Come back, tonight.” He said in a whisper.

 

 

 


	2. Innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me more time than I've thought but, in my defense, it's a very long chapter. I apologise in advance for any mistake, english is not my first language and I'm without a Beta.  
> I'm totally overwhelmed by the response to the first chapter, I hope you'll like the end.

“ _But we loved with a love that was more than love.”_

Annabel-Edgar Allan Poe

 

 

She was cold, she was small.

Her body under him seemed discordant, wrong, somehow. He kissed every exposed part, his lips already depending on her wounded skin. She was covered in freckles and scars and he suffered a little bit more, discovering new ones. He felt his eyes damp, the tears wetting his own skin.

_Your skin makes me cry, wench._

His fingers found her pussy and he started caressing it, gently, teasing her, but he was surprised when he didn’t find her wet. He kept moving, inserting a finger inside her, steadying his thrusts. She didn’t moan, she didn’t move; it was like his touch couldn’t reach her.

_Look at me._

Her eyes were miles away, empty, unrelated.

He bent on her body, licking her nipple tentatively, but still not a single sound escaped from her.

The more he touched her, the less wet and responsive she became.

_Why can’t I give you pleasure, Brienne?_

He kept moving, frantically, clouded more by desperation than excitement at that point.

_Answer me._

She closed her eyes and losing her sapphires, he lost the last ray of hope.

_That was my mistake, daring to aim at your perfection?_

He stopped trying when he realized her skin had become transparent, ice under his fingertips. His hand travelled until it rested on her chest.

_Let me hear your heart beating_.

He didn’t find her pulsation, his tears falling on her skin, sliding against its foreign texture. His fingers touched her eyes then, raising her eyelids slowly and finding icy blue eyes staring back at him.

_She’s a corpse, my love turned her in a corpse._

Panic assaulted him and he screamed, loudly, more loudly than that time, when he lost his limb, losing himself; and when the last whimper left his lungs, he woke up.

* * *

She hadn’t come back that night, his whispered words that had sounded more like a pleading, a necessity somehow, hadn’t been enough. He had thought that, maybe, at this point, there wasn’t need of anything else, not a convincing word, not a more explicit touch; it was just two souls, theirs, that had finally found each other and that were ready to become one.

But she hadn’t come back that night.

The door of his room opened abruptly and he was disappointed finding out his visitor.

“Where’s she?” Jaime asked immediately.

“It’s fookin’ good to see you too, My Lord.” Bronn said sarcastically. “And you’re welcome for saving your life.”

Jaime sighed in frustration.“Forgive me, you’re right.”

“So?”

“Thank you, really.” Jaime said, looking at him. “Anyway, you already know, at this point, that a Lannister always pays..”

“Oh, spare me that shit, Lannister.” He said, interrupting him. “That castle has to be really big, as big as the tits of my future wife.. maybe those even bigger..”

“Small tits have their appealing too.” He said casually and Bronn looked at him sidelong. “Where’s she?”

“Ah.. I see.” Bronn smirked. “She’s downstairs, looking like she has just played cyvasse with the Stranger.. what did you do this time?”

“Nothing, I swear.”

“Have you two stopped fookin’ each other with the eyes?”

Jaime glared at him in response. “We don’t fuck--”

“Oh please.”

He stayed in silence for some seconds. “Well, I like it.” He said at the end.

“You like it?”

“I mean, I like her.”

“Fookin’ finally, my Lord.” He said, sitting at the feet of his bed. “How much does it hurt?” He asked, pointing at his wound.

“Pretty much.”

“It hurts enough to come here and to beat the hell out of me?” Bronn asked him.

Jaime frowned. “Ok, what is it?”

“You won’t beat the hell out of me?”

“Bronn..”

“I might know the reason behind your blonde lady’s behavior.” When Jaime didn’t interrupt him, he added. “She has heard about the baby.”

“The baby? What baby?”

“Your baby, dumb-ass. The one you’re having with your sister.”

“Oh fuck me, are you insane? How does she know?” Jaime almost screamed, raising himself from the pillows.

“Easy, lion!”Bronn said, leaving the bed immediately. “I might have talked with some of my soldiers.. I was trying to convince them to follow you. She was around.”

“You were trying to convince them saying that I’m having a baby with my sister?”

“Well, I had to prove them what you were willing to leave behind.”

Jaime was about to reply, but the words were stuck in his throat. “Please, I need to talk to her.” He said, without bothering to hide the need in his voice.

Bronn did his duty, apparently, because that afternoon she visited him.

* * *

She entered in his room, finding him shirtless; he was trying to wash his back with a sponge,

bending his arm awkwardly around his body and cursing slightly through his teeth.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh here you are.” He said, turning toward her. “Trying to wash my back, wench.”

“Let me help you.” The words slipped from her mouth almost independently.

He stopped fidgeting. “How kind of you.. have you stopped running away then, Brienne?”

She ignored his words, the same way she was trying to ignore the lure of his skin, golden, warm and naked in front of her. He was wearing just a pair of slacks that almost slipped from his hips; he had lost weight, she had noticed, and she was surprised to realize how well she had learnt to recognize the changes of his body. She took the sponge from his hand and she went behind him. She flinched once she saw his conditions. His skin was marked in bruises and light scars and then there was his wound; it was healing well but it was an ugly one, though. Her fingertips slid delicately on it. “Does it hurt?” She asked him in a whisper.

“It burns.” He said softly.

She stilled her movements and then, following a strange urge, she leaned down to blow softly on it. He was startled by her actions and he made a moan, caught between pleasure and surprise. She misunderstood the sound and she retreated immediately in shame. He sensed her movements, anticipating them, because his arm, faster, bent behind his body to reach her, his hand resting against her back and he pushed her against him, her chest flat against his back.

“Stay.” He whispered and there was the same need in his voice. “Please.”

When he was sure that she wasn’t going to run away, his hand slid slowly, caressing her back and leaving her free. She put some space between their bodies and she started cleaning his skin with the sponge.

She was delicate, too delicate.

Jaime could feel the tenderness boiling inside him, invading his stomach, almost annoyingly.

_Touch me more, wench.. use your nails, touch me hard. I don’t deserve your kindness._

He sighed when her hands travelled below, slowly.

“I’m not very good with this kind of things.” She muttered shyly and he could feel her breath tickling his shoulder blade.

“Nobody has ever touched me like this.” He told her instead.

She stilled her hand for a moment. “Like this, how?” She asked tentatively.

“Like I was something precious.”

She rested her forehead in the middle of his back, her breaths heavy against his skin.

“Why are you running away, Brienne?” He asked her again, enjoying her weight against him.

“I’m not running away.”

“You didn’t come back last night, why? It’s for what you’ve heard?”

She raised her head from him and she resumed washing him, diligently. “You were not yourself..” She said, ignoring his last question.

“She told me she was pregnant, I don’t know if it’s true, I don’t know if the baby is mine.. I’ve been selfish maybe, once again, I just.. I just knew that I wanted to leave her.”

“I’m not interested.”

“You are.” He said, almost angry. “Why didn’t you come back last night, then?”

“You had just awakened, you were almost dying, Jaime, you weren’t thinking properly. I think you.. you got a little carried away.”

He chuckled bitterly at her words. “Gods, I can’t believe you.” He said, incredulous. “I was not myself, wasn’t I?”

“No.”

“What about the previous nights then, Brienne? What about the fact that I’ve held you in your sleep almost every fucking night?”

“We were just… it was just human comfort.”

“Human comfort?” He asked her, exasperated. “What do you want, Brienne?”

“I.. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously, what do you want? Do you want me to say it out loud?” He kept talking when she didn’t reply. “Do you want me to scream it through the Seven Kingdoms? Because I’ll do it if it that's what you want.”  
He sighed in frustration due to her silence, then he turned around to face her, but his rage died in his throat when he saw her. The sponge fell from her hand, her eyes were full of tears, stubborn as her, still not ready to fall but heavy in her sapphires; her lips were trembling a little and he barely brushed them with his fingertips, overwhelmed by her fragility. “Don’t.” She said then.

He looked at her in confusion.

“Don’t say it.” She whispered.

“Don’t say what?” He asked her softly. “That I love you?”

“Jaime..”

“That I fucking love you to the point that my mind is filled by you every fucking second of my life, since the day you left me?”

“Why?” She interrupted him and he was surprised by her question. “Give me a reason.. why do you love me?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it. “I.. I don’t know.”

He saw the hurt expression on her face and he immediately cursed himself. “I’ve spent my whole life asking the Gods why I had fallen in love with a woman as cruel as Cersei..but I.. I’ve never asked, not even myself, why I’ve fallen in love with you. It feels right, it has always felt right.”

She frowned at his words. “Right? You love me because it feels right? What am I for you, Ser? A way to redeem your soul? A winning pawn to make you feel better with yourself? To take away your sins?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She stared at him until she felt his fingers interlacing with hers. “Believe me. Once again, Brienne please, believe me.” He whispered, resting his forehead against hers. She tried to resist to his touch at first, but then, she yielded seconds later.

“Why do you love me?” She whispered back, their eyelashes brushing against each other. He swallowed, cupping her cheek, in desperation.

“Why?” She asked again. She waited for some seconds but when his reply didn’t arrive, she freed herself from his grasp.

“Brienne, wait.” He said, grabbing her wrist.

“You don’t even know why.” She replied, dismissing his touch. “We’ll leave for Riverrun tomorrow morning, try to rest today.”

Then she was gone.

* * *

She had exchanged a gaze with him the morning after, nothing more. Her eyes had rested carefully on his back then, gauging the state of his wound from afar, hidden by his armor. She still hadn’t realized that, the night before, a man had confessed his love for her, like someone could love her grotesque complexity. A man she had started loving in turn with an intensity that made her question her stoic facade, her impeccable behavior. She still thought that this love could make her weaker, unsafe somehow, but then why there wasn’t not better hiding place than his arms? Why his skin against her own made her believe there was still a hope of warmth, of belonging somewhere?

She was fixing the saddle of her horse, her hand slid carefully in the saddlebag, searching for the stone-star. She smiled briefly when she found it; She remembered how easily had been telling him her story, not fearing of being judged or mocked, not waiting for his comfort, because just the only notion of sharing it with him had been enough. His eyes, piercing, warm, heedful on her, had washed away her pain, naturally, like waves on sand grains.

“Are you ready to leave, My Lady?”

Brienne turned, nodding affectionately to her squire. “Yes Pod, I was just checking if everything was ready.”

Podrick looked around nervous and then he closed the space between them, whispering. “His wound is healing well, My Lady. I’ve brought him new gauzes this morning, he seemed really better.”

Brienne frowned. “Why are you telling me this, Pod?”

Podrick hesitated for a moment but then he found the courage to speak. “Without offence, My Lady.. you, you weren’t yourself when Ser Jaime was wounded.. and I’ve seen that you two weren’t speaking to each other this morning, I should not interfere, I know, but..I’ve thought, you wanted to know if he was better.”

She sighed in response. “How is it? The wound, I mean.”

“Better, My Lady.”

“Is still bleeding?”

“No, My Lady!”

“No infection, right? Are you sure? I mean..”

“It’s clean, My Lady, really clean.” Podrick said, smiling. “You should check it yourself.”

She lowered her eyes, escaping his gaze. “It’s complicated, Pod.”

Podrick smiled. “It doesn’t seem to me, My Lady.”

* * *

The road for Riverrun was silent.

Jaime was leading the group, solemn in his black armor; to a random eye, he could seem undisturbed, gloriously fierce, but she could discern his uncertainty, the repressed pain caused by the wound. If she had been braver, she would have reassured him, she would have spoken sweet words, she would have been tender because even a lion craved for tenderness, especially a wounded one; she wasn’t brave though, at least not with him.

That was the reason why she had stayed behind, checking him and his discomfort from afar, like a silent shadow, shifting on her saddle at every sigh from him, at every darkness clouding his face.

His eyes had met her gaze more than once and she had been relieved, finding out that that warmth, the emblem of their silent connection was still there. She wondered if that was the sigil of their bond, the nature of their love, or maybe it was its completion.

A secret meeting of their eyes.

She hadn’t slept with him in the nights; but in every one she had searched for him, in the dark, and he had always been there, like he was waiting, ready to receive his prize. They had stared at each other during every single one, their exchange interrupted only by their blinking, like they were lulling each other to sleep, from afar.

It was like he was respecting her fear; it had always been a matter of respect between them, after all.

Every morning, then, she had found a bowl with something to eat next to her.

They arrived at Riverrun, half frozen. There was a Lannister army guarding the castle and she was relieved when she could clearly discern the look of admiration of his soldiers, welcoming his arrival.

_This is how people should look at him_. She decided.

He was that kind of commander that would have never left his men, dying for them if it was necessary and, for the first time, she truly realized how much her love for him was made of pride.

He collected the soldiers in front of the walls and she felt a rush of pleasure when she heard his voice again.

“Soldiers.” He started speaking. “This is the last time I refer to you as such. From now on I’m talking to you as men, husbands, brothers.. from now on I’m talking to you as flesh, heart and soul; because I won’t ask you to follow me into this mad war as a Lannister, I’m asking you to follow me into this war as a man. We won’t fight for a house, we won’t fight for honour, we won’t fight for gold. We will fight to live; and if life’s made of love, fight for what you love then, fight for a son, fight for a daughter, fight for a friend.. fight for a woman. Fight for what you love.”

He stared at her then, in front of everyone, almost trying to make sure every man knew she was the purpose of his personal battle; surviving for her.

Like he needed to conquer her affection.

There was silence at first, until, suddenly, one of the soldiers broke it. “Lord Jaime, the lion of Casterly Rock!”

After some hesitant seconds, every one, in turn, followed his lead.

“The lion of Casterly Rock!” One screamed.

“The lion of Casterly Rock.” Another one.

Until the chorus was one. “The lion of Casterly Rock! The lion of Casterly Rock!”

She looked around, overwhelmed and she swallowed to fight back the tears; then she found his eyes that were already on her, recognizing the same struggle in them.

She wondered when they had started sharing the same emotions.

He smiled at her and she smiled back.

* * *

They were inside when a sentinel sounded the alarm. They didn’t expect to be attached there, in the South, but maybe they had underestimated the abilities of their enemies. There was a strategy, there was a purpose, but what was the reason behind their thirst? If they, the life, were fighting the death, the death what was it fighting for?

There was panic at first, shield against shield, runaway horses, screams until he disposed the army. Then, he searched frantically for her in the crowd. They started walking toward each other, bumping against a soldier after another until they were a few feet apart. He closed the distance between them and his left hand grabbed Oathkeeper’s pommel at her hip, pulling her almost against his body.

“Stay with me.” He was the one now whispering in her ear. She nodded faintly in response and he was about to retreat when her fingers circled his wrist. “Jaime..” She called him in a whisper.

He looked at her for some seconds. “I know.”

They were ready to fight.

For a moment it was almost magical; it was magical because the sounds of their blades could overpower everything else. Their swords answered to the same lure, they had been one, once and it was like they were fighting to find each other again, in the end.

_Stay with me._ He had prayed her, moments before, and she had tried, truly, to the point that one eye was on the battle, the other on him.

She couldn’t lose his sight.

But then there was a distant scream, one that she recognized immediately.

“Podrick!” She screamed back, running in the direction of the lad’s voice.

She saw his squire surrounded by wights. _I can’t fail him._ She thought, trying to reach him.

There were enemies on her path but Oathkeeper was fast, slaying wight after wight, precise and warm like the oath it was guarding.

_Where’s Jaime?_ She thought, but she couldn’t answer to that question anymore.

She wouldn’t have arrived in time, again.

_Not again._

Suddenly she realized there was silence, almost loud due to its intensity. She looked around, understanding that the attach was over.

She saw her squire’s body, lifeless, buried in the snow. The pain was making her path slower, tentative somehow. She wanted to reach him, to see his plump face for the last time, to reassure him, telling him he hadn’t done anything wrong, telling him that he had been brave, heroic, special; that she couldn’t have asked for a better squire. The path toward his young corpse seemed long, other scattered bodies covered the distance and she didn’t dare looking at them at first, too scared of finding a face she didn’t want to see. “Where’s Jaime?” She whispered to no one in particular.

She walked, turning a corpse and not recognizing the face hidden in the snow. Then she discovered another one, then one more. “Where’s Jaime?”She asked again, loudly this time, but no one answered her. She started running then, her movements made heavy by her armor. She turned frantically every corpse she found. “Where’s Jaime?”She screamed to the ground this time.

She had almost reached Podrick’s body when the tears started falling from her eyes, silent at first. She looked at the sky and she screamed his name again. “Jaime.”

“I’m here, Brienne.” His voice was a distant whisper, but strong enough to reach her. She turned a little, seeing him. Her body bent, then, without notice, in painful relief, in front of his squire. She turned toward Jaime, scanning his body. “The blood..” She whispered.

“It’s not mine.”

She looked at him terrified and then she looked at his sword, coloured in red too. “The blood, Jaime.”

“It’s not mine, Brienne, I swear..I’m fine.” He told her calmly, realizing her state of panic. “I was checking the bodies of my soldiers.. to see if there was someone still alive.”

She nodded distracted and then she felt his proximity, his body bending behind her, mimicking her position, both of them with their knees buried in the snow. His left hand covered her shoulder, trying to calm her erratic breath, like his touch could fix anything and she left the tears falling from her eyes in loudly sobs this time. They stayed like this for some seconds until she turned a little, looking at him.

“Has he suffered?” She asked him softly.

“I don’t know.” He answered her honestly.

She caressed Podrick’s hair, patting gently his face. Then she found Jaime’s eyes again. His gaze seemed to have a bewitching effect on her and she calmed gradually, hypnotized by his warmth, never stopping their exchange. His left hand found hers and their fingers interlaced.

“We have to burn him, Brienne.” He said calm, like he was talking with a kid.

“No.” She said, almost crushing his hand in response.

He left her fingers, caressing her cheek, instead. “Look at me.” He said. “We have to burn him, Brienne.”

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes briefly. “Will you do it, please?” She whispered then. “Will you do it for me, Jaime?”

_I would do anything for you._

He nodded silently.

“Give me your sword.” She said faintly. “I want to clean it, please.. there’s too much blood, there’s..”

“Take it.” He said softly. “Go inside now, you’re freezing. I’ll take care of him.”

He didn’t like the smell of burning flesh, he didn’t like that the man in question was a young boy, the one he had chosen to accompany her, not to make her feel alone, lost.

He didn’t like seeing her cry, it tightened his chest in a twisted way that was new for him.

He wanted to wash away that smell, that pain; he wanted to feel clean and to hold her during the night, brushing away her tears with the pressure of his lips.

He burnt the body, the closeness of the fire melting away his tears, the ice in his hair.

He found Bronn in the hallway of the castle and there weren’t jests this time, just a look and a pat of his shoulder. “Are you ok?” The man asked him.

He nodded briefly.

“Go to her.”

 

* * *

He went to his chamber first, removing his black armor, he observed it for some seconds, still wondering how he had ended up fighting for the North, how he had gained their trust, their respect. This thought gave him an unexpected thrill of pleasure. He washed himself then, removing that smell, the dirt, the ashes.

He didn’t worry about covering his stump.

When he entered in her chamber, she was cleaning her armor, his sword sparkled next to hers; she was wearing a tunic that ended at her knees and nothing else. He was surprised to see her legs exposed. Her hair was damp, her cheeks pink, freshly cleaned.

Her eyes had never been sweeter and he was already addicted.

“I didn’t want him to touch it, at first.” She said, still cleaning her armor. “I was jealous of my armor, can you believe it?” She asked amused, looking at him.

“It’s a beautiful one.” He said, from his spot.

“He was a disaster the first days, he couldn’t even ride. I had to teach him everything.”

“He had learnt, you taught him well.” When she didn’t reply, he added: “He admired you a lot.”

She brushed away a tear. “He knew about this.” She said then.

“About what?” He asked her, confused.

“He came to me every morning to tell me how was your wound, if it was healing well. He knew about what I felt.”

He made some steps toward her, stopping in the centre of the chamber. “What did you feel?” He asked her in a whisper. “Wh-what do you feel?”

“I feel like I’m crumbling.” She left the tears wetting her skin.“I feel terrify.”

“Of what?”

“Of losing you.”

“You won’t.”

“You can’t know that.” She said, standing up, walking toward him.

“You’re right, I don’t.” He answered her, closing the distance between them. “But you know what I do know?”

She shook her head and he was the one brushing away her tears now.

“You’ve asked me why I love you.. you’ve asked me, nights ago, if I would have loved you if you had been pretty, with long hair and small hands, like the maidens of the songs.. well, the answer is no, I wouldn’t have.”

“Why?” She asked him, surprised.

“I’ve met a lot of pretty ladies, Brienne, ready to fall at my feet with a snap of my fingers. I would have probably looked at you, admired you perhaps, but then, what? Nothing else. I already had a pretty lady warming my bed every night, the prettiest of them all probably, why should I have been enchanted by your beauty?”

“I.. I don’t know.” She said, sounding almost defeated.

“It wasn’t beauty what I was craving for, even if I didn’t know it back then.. it was honesty, trust.. it was innocence.” He explained. “While I was fighting for coming back to beauty, beauty was not what I really wanted. Look how damaged I am.”

“But you hated me at first.”

“I did.” He said, half smiling. “But, while I spent my time trying to find valid reasons to do so, like I was already trying to justify why your purity deserved my blind contempt, something happened every bloody time you looked at me in the eyes; and it wasn’t because yours are probably the most astonishing eyes I’ve ever seen, it was the way you looked at me, the way you still do. Every time you do it, something stirs inside me.. and it’s not the sensation of something breaking inside, it’s.. it’s more like a rebuild.” He looked at her and then, he added in a whisper. “I think you.. I think you’ve awakened my soul, somehow.”

“Jaime..”

“So, when you ask me why I love you and I don’t know how to answer, it’s because I can’t explain the greatness of what I feel, it’s more than love I guess, or maybe I didn’t know love before.”

He took a breath and then he said again, “what I know for sure is that, every night, when I fell asleep after your departure, even if it wasn’t you warming my bed, it was your eyes that haunt me, even in the dark. I know that saying you goodbye the second time nearly broke me apart. And I know that every single time I am about to do something, I wonder what will you think about me, craving for your approval.. am I reaching your perfection? Am I worthy?”

“I’m not perfect.” She said in a whisper.

“To me you are.” He whispered back.

“I don’t deserve your words, or this devotion, Jaime, and I’m grateful but I’m wondering if this is not just a matter of devotion, admiration perhaps? Love is not a matter of devotion, not only at least.”

He smiled at her words. “What are you implying? That I don’t want you?”

She lowered her eyes, escaping his amused gaze.

“Are you suggesting that I’ve not spent my nights imagining my lips dancing on your skin, your legs tight around my hips, strong and demanding or you, moaning shyly my name because I’m buried deeply inside you?”

“Jaime..”

“See My Lady, don’t make me be obscene, you’re still a maiden after all.. or at least I hope.” He said, teasing her. She raised an eyebrow, almost offended, but then she smiled. He felt the words stuck in his throat, he wasn’t used to her smiles. “Brienne..” He called her, waiting for her eyes on him. “Tell me you feel the same.” He asked her in a whisper.

“Nobody has ever worried about how I feel.” She answered back.

“And here’s a man desperate to hear sweet nothing coming from your lips.”

“Are you sure about this? About your love for me?”

He sighed in a mix of tenderness and exasperation. “I’ve already told you once that I would have always been yours, right here, in this place.”

She frowned, confused. “You were talking about Oathkeeper.”

“Was I?”

When he noticed new but different tears forming in the corner of her eyes, he added. “If I say I love you, Brienne, well, then I love you.”

“I’m scared.” She said, her voice broken. “I know how to handle an insult, I know how to face a battle but.. I don’t know how to handle this, I don’t know how to handle you.”

“You’re braver than this.”

“Not in this. I can’t make the same mistake again, I can’t let you hold me in the nights and see you dying in my arms in the mornings. I can’t anymore. I’m scared.” She said, lowering her eyes. He closed the remaining space between them and he cupped her cheek, raising her face to meet her gaze.

“Isn’t the regret scarier, my lady?” He said, resting his forehead against her own. “I don’t want to die without knowing how it feels like.”

“How it feel like what?” She asked him in a whisper.

“This.” He answered against her lips. She turned her head slightly, overwhelmed by his gesture. He smiled, caressing her cheek with his lips. She sighed and then, after some seconds of hesitation, she looked at him, as she was trying to find an answer in his eyes. She raised her left hand, slowly, and she buried it in his hair. They stayed like this, forehead against forehead, in silence; just the sound of their breaths against each other. He was respecting her internal struggle, until, unexpectedly, her lips found his cheekbone, kissing it softly.

He wondered if anyone had ever kissed him with the same tenderness.

He held his breath while a small tear, almost imperceptible, left his eyes. She followed its path with her lips, kissing it away and he realized, once again, that he had underestimated her. _Who knew this warrior was able of such delicacy?_ He was still, stuck by that crushing feeling while he felt her lips against his own.

They were warm and salty; his left hand found her hair to pull her closer. It was just a brush of lips, innocent but never more powerful. They parted and he smiled sweetly at her.

“You can kiss me.” She said then.

He felt a rush of affection invading him and then he kissed her again, and again, every time trying to coax her lips open a little more until he chuckled hopeless against her skin. “You have to let me in, wench.”

She frowned in confusion and she was about to reply when, counting on her surprise, he kissed her hard, his tongue sliding inside. She gasped at first, but then she buried even the other hand in his hair.

She followed every movement he was making, like she was entrusting herself with his lead; she tilted her head to give him more access and he groaned, kissing her with all the passion he could gather. When he pulled away, he bit her lip gently and he was surprised when she did the same with him seconds later.

He brushed her nose with his own. “So, does it taste like fear, my lady?”

She shook her head. “It tastes like happiness.”

He kissed her again then, making her retreat until her legs touched the bed covered in furs.

“Tell me you want this.” He whispered against her lips.

“I can’t remember the last time I didn’t want it.” She said back.

He made her seat on the bed then, and he knelt between her legs. His hand grabbed her ankle and he was surprised to discern, so clearly, the erratic beating of her heart there; Then he travelled above, caressing slowly her skin during his climb. She was holding her breath and he leaned down to kiss her knee. “Breath.” He said sweetly against her skin.

She nodded, lowering her eyes and fidgeting with the hem of her tunic. He covered her fingers with his to stop her movements. “Look at me.” He told her. “I’m nervous too. I think I’ve never been this nervous in my life.” He said, half chuckling. When he started raising her tunic, she was the one stopping his fingers. He frowned, looking at her. “Do you trust me?” He asked her then.

She didn’t reply, but she took the tunic in her own hands, removing it graciously.

“Yes.” She said then. “Do you?”

He was staring at her body, unable to speak. She had been able to leave him speechless once again, like the first time.

Her skin was pale, marred and beautiful.

She was beautiful.

He wanted to tell her, but she would have never believed him. Then he felt her hands on him, removing his tunic and he stayed still between her legs, his arms raising on their own accord like they were following her silent hypnotizing command.

He had planned to seduce her so many times in his dreams, but she was the one seducing him in the reality.

Her fingers trembled when she started caressing his chest, like she was drawing a secret shape on his skin, until they stopped at the band of his slacks. He stood up then, following her intentions and when she was about to remove his slacks, he raised her chin up with his fingers to make her look at him.

Her eyes didn’t leave his when she removed the last piece of his clothes.

He knelt again between her legs then and immediately, he pulled her in his arms, hugging her tightly, her legs interlaced behind his back and he felt every inch of her skin pressed against him. He felt her breath in his ear. “I love you.” She told him, like it was still a secret.

He pulled away, cupping her face, making her look at him. “I haven’t heard you.” He said, teasingly.

“Shut your mouth.” She said, smiling.

He scanned her body, almost mesmerized.

“Your skin seems made by porcelain.” He said, caressing her chest, his hand stopped on her heart and he smiled feeling her strong beating under his fingertips.

“Broken porcelain, I’m afraid.” She muttered back.

He looked at her, then he lowered his mouth on her skin, following with his lips the contour of the scar made by the bear. “Even better.” He said against it.

When the tip of his tongue came out, wetting her skin, she let out a small moan. He immediately looked at her, thrilled by the sound.

“Sorry.” She said, misunderstanding him.

“No please, do it.” He said, then, seeing her confusion, he added, “I had a nightmare nights ago. I was making love to you, but I couldn’t give you pleasure.. so let me hear it, please. Every sigh, every moan, my name coming from your lips.. just, let me hear it.”

“I will.” She simply said, blushing adorably.

Suddenly he felt the urge to know it. “How do you want me, Brienne?”

She lowered her eyes for a moment, but then she found his gaze again. “I.. I want to feel like a woman, for once.. I want to feel delicate in your arms. I want you to overpower me, I want to.. I just want to yield.”

He smiled, playing with a lock of her hair and fixing it around her ear. “Do you want to know a secret?” He asked seriously and she nodded. “I love your strength, Brienne.” He whispered in her ear. “It excites me.. so much. You don’t need to be delicate with me, besides, I would overpower you anyway.” He added, smirking.

She hit him playfully on his shoulder and he lowered her on the bed, smiling, covering her body with his. He took her wrists in turn with his left hand, pinning her to the mattress and raising her arms above her head. He fixed his hand there to keep her in place. “Now, about that thing you said.. what was it? Did you want to yield to me? That was pretty interesting, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up!” She said, wriggling under his grasp, but he lowered her again, more firmly, down.

He smiled at her and she smiled back, their smiles identical.

He kissed her softly on the mouth; then it was the turn of her chin, her neck until his lips slid down, reaching the level of her chest. He looked up, almost to ask her a silent permission and when he saw a liquid passion in her eyes, he took her nipple in his mouth. She moaned more loudly, arching her back and he tightened his grip around her wrists. He sucked it hard and then he started licking it slowly. His eyes shifted toward the other nipple and immediately, he raised his right arm, for habit, with the illusion to use his fingers on it. He looked, disappointed, at his stump and he was about to retreat his left hand from above when she stopped him. “Wait.” She said, meeting his gaze. “Use it.” She touched his stump. “Touch me with this.” She said in a whisper.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Are you sure?” He asked her.

She nodded immediately.

“It doesn’t repulse you?” He added then, his voice half broken.

She frowned in response. “Repulse me?”

He smiled, kissing her forehead. “Of course not.” _She’s an angel,_ _I’ll never get used to her nature._

He kept her pinned with his left, while his stump started touching her body, until he found her right nipple; he caressed it gaining a whimper in response. He stopped, not sure about her reaction. “Brienne, if you don’t like it or you’re not comfortable with this, just tell me please.. I don’t-”

“It’s perfect.” She interrupted him. “It’s perfect, Jaime. It’s just.. it’s just a little overwhelming, you’re a little overwhelming.” She said softly.

_She’s a maiden, my maiden._

 

“Gods, I’m terrible, I thought I would be better.” He said chuckling against her lips. “I promise it will be better next time.” She kissed him back.

He kept caressing her with his stump, while his lips found her left nipple again. His right arm slid down then, slowly, finding her pussy. He looked up at her when he started rubbing it, between her legs. She held his gaze when he caressed her clit, brushing his skin against it.

“Jaime..” She panted.

_She had never said my name like this, never before. Please, say it again._

“Again.” He begged her, taking her right nipple in his mouth. “Say my name again.”

She moaned when he used his teeth, sucking it lightly while his caress below became faster.

“Jaime..”

_She’s wet, she’s wet and warm. She’s real._

One of her hand escaped from his grasp and she buried it in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers.

He devoured her mouth, moaning against her lips. She was close, he could tell and suddenly, he realized that her first orgasm would have come from his stump. Suddenly he realized that wonder could arise from brutality. He was giving her pleasure with the origin of his tragedy, his defeat, but then why it was tasting like rebirth, like sweet hope? Every touch, she moaned louder and he was thirsty for her pleasure.

He slowed down his caress abruptly and she panted against his mouth. His touch was delicate, almost not there until he stopped completely and he lost himself in her incoherent pleasure. He was barely moving at this point, but then he sensed her starting to rub herself slowly against his stump. He pressed his erection against the mattress, clouded by his excitement, groaning in her neck while she came for the first time.

Her fingers were still in his hair while he released her other hand from his grasp. She cupped his cheek immediately and he smiled at her sweetness, kissing her in response. “It wasn’t that bad, wasn’t it?” He asked her, smirking.

“Awful.” She joked, her breathing still accelerated.

“Why My Lady, I apologise but don’t worry it’s just the first..” He said leaving her lips, his mouth sliding on her body.

“Wh-what are you doing?” She stammered.

He kissed her flat stomach, dragging his lips until they reached her hipbone. “I intend to spend the night giving you pleasure.”

She was about to reply when his face lowered again.

He rubbed his cheek against her inner thigh and a thrill of possession hit him when he saw her skin reddening in response, stung by his beard. _She’s mine._

Then, he felt the lure of her pussy.

He opened her legs a little more to have better access, then he teased her with his nose, feeling her tense under him.

“Wh-what are you doing?” She asked again, but her words came out weaker, this time.

He kissed her there, keeping his lips against her folds for long. He looked up at her, seeing she was holding her breath and he kissed her again, still looking at her.

_This is how much I desire you._

He licked her once, slowly and then another time more intensely, like he was trying to fix the sensation in his memory. His lips closed around her clit briefly and he sucked it, feeling her legs trembling against him. He inhaled deeply into her and he resumed licking her, faster, almost frantically, until he couldn’t discern anymore his movements.

_Gods, she tastes like innocence._

And he was so thirsty of innocence, he had been since the first time he had set his eyes on her.

_Is this the taste of my redemption? Love and innocence?_

She was moaning and he felt the need to prolong her pleasure, to make it louder, incoherent again, but then he sensed her fingers in his hair, pulling him and he stopped abruptly, raising his face and looking at her.

“Doesn’t it repulse you?” She asked him, mimicking his previous words, half trembling, heavy breaths and pink cheeks.

He smiled sweetly at her naiveness. _She’s my maiden._

“You taste like innocence.” He simply said, and then he buried his tongue inside her.

With every thrust, he tried to go a little deeper; one of her hand found his hair, again, accompanying his movements and he put her leg on his shoulder, like he wanted to feel her weight on him.

_She’s real._

His left hand slid above to find her fingers; they interlaced perfectly and when she tightened her grip, he realized her orgasm was close. He caressed her clit again with his lips, painfully slowly and she came under him.

He realized her orgasm had come from his tongue and from his lips this time. The same ones that had offended once, insulted her, whispered oaths he maybe didn’t believe in, at first.

Now those lips had given her pleasure, just pleasure.

He rested his head on her hipbone and kissed it.

“Jaime.” She called him and he looked up at her, almost afraid she could suddenly make a step back.

“What? Have you changed your mind?” He asked her, without bothering to hide his nervousness.

“No.” She immediately replied. “Come here, I need to tell you something.” She said shyly. He reached her, covering her body with his own, resting on his elbows. She raised her arms, half trembling, and she took his face in her hands, framing it.

“What is it?” He asked her, now worried.

She looked at him deeply, then she caressed his eyebrows with her fingers until they slid down following the shape of his cheekbones. It was the turn of his nose then, its length caressed by a single finger that found his lips at the end, tracing its contour. He kissed it, transfixed by her touch.

“You’re made of beauty.” She whispered.

He raised an eyebrow, smiling. “That’s what you wanted to tell me?”

“No.” She shook her head slowly. “You’re worthy, Jaime.”

“What?”

“You’re worthy.” She said, his face still in her hands. “You deserve happiness, you deserve this, you.. you deserve me. You’re a good man.”

“I’ve done horrible things.” He said, not realizing some tears were running down his face.

“I know.” She said, honestly. “That’s what makes you even more worthy now. There’s always been a hidden reason behind your actions, even the most brutal ones. I hadn’t seen it a first, but now I can, you’ve made me seen it. You have always acted for the ones you love.”

“I’ve hurt a lot of people in the process, though.” He said, between tears.

“You’ve learnt not to do it anymore, you’ve learnt to value your words, your actions, you’ve learnt to keep your oaths. I’m so proud of you.” She whispered, brushing away his tears.

“You’ve taught me that, that was your merit, only you.. you’ve taught me to protect the ones I love respectfully, without crimes or blood.”

“There’s blood on my hands too.”

“Yours is right, it has always been right. You are honourable, Gods, you are perfect.”

“No, Jaime.. you’ve saved me so many times, not just from a rape or a bear. You’ve made me feel trusted, respected, admired.. you don’t even realized it, don’t you? You’ve saved me, Jaime.”

He swallowed, overwhelmed by her words. “Then saving you, I’ve saved myself.”

She found his lips, kissing him with a passion she had never known to have. He replied to the kiss, mimicking her passion, their skins matched like two parts of the same body while his erection was hard against her. She lowered a trembling hand between them and she touched it gently. He moaned at the contact and she was heartened to prolong her caress. She started stroking it, without really knowing how to do it and he pressed himself more into her touch. “You’re too gentle, Brienne. I won’t break.” He whispered in her ear.

She was firm then, her strokes harder, looking at him defiantly and he buried himself in her neck, not bearing her intensity. When he was panting against her skin, she guided him between her legs, but he stopped her.

“You need to promise me one thing, first.” He said then, resting his forehead against her own. “When this will be over, if we both survive..”

“Jaime..”

“No, please, let me finish.” He said, almost begging her. “When this will be over, if we both will make it out alive.. I want.. I want a family with you, I want sons and daughters, a home, I want everything with you. You need to promise me this.”

She nodded. “I-I promise. I will survive for you and you.. you will survive for me.”

He was too overwhelmed to talk and slowly, he started getting inside her. She was so tight, it was almost impossible at first, but then he penetrated her totally and she moaned under him. He stopped moving, looking at her and he realized he had never belonged to anyone else before.

_S_ _he’s the other half on_ _my_ _soul_ ;

the good part for sure, the better one. It had always been there, it just needed to be awakened.

“You’re mine.” He said, and it wasn’t a question, but a statement. He kissed her face, frantically, like he wanted to cover her skin with love. Then he started thrusting inside her and she arched her back meeting his movements in response.

His thrusts were slow, delicate but deep. “Tell me something.”

“It’s..” She tried, moaning.

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s beautiful.” She simply said and he chuckled in her neck. He felt her fingers in his hair while her leg bent around his back, pushing him more against her.

He saw out of the corner of his eye their swords cross on the floor.

“Look at them.” He whispered, still moving inside her.

She turned her head and he rested his cheek against her own. “Our swords. They were born as one, but then they were separated.” He whispered, his thrusts sped up a little and they moaned together, still looking at their swords, mesmerized. “But in the end, in the end they have found each other again because they were meant to be together. Because they’re two parts of the same blade, two half of the same soul.”

Her hands were both in his hair then and she turned his head to crush her lips against his. They kissed frantically, moaning into each other’s mouth.

“Jaime..” She said.

“What?” He panted against her lips.

“I want..”

“What do you want?”

“More.”

The second her answer came out from her mouth, he pinned her arms above her head and he started thrusting faster and deeply inside her. “Thank you.”

He never lost her eyes, both of his arms covered hers, pinned above her head, nothing could pass between their bodies, they were glued, his chest flat against her breasts, her legs interlaced around him and every thrust was deeper than the previous one, accentuating their connection. Sweat was covering their skins, warm and salty. He wanted to kiss her, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers; and when they darkened, approaching the orgasm he saw it then.

She was his home.

_I’ve found my home._

She came hard and he followed her seconds later, claiming her lips to silence his overwhelming moans of pleasure.

They fall asleep after that, his body still covered hers. Their hearts pounding fast against each other’s ribs until they calmed, their breaths lulling each other, alternated by his sweet nonsenses whispered in her ear.

 

He woke up finding her in his arms.

She stirred, rubbing her body against him, innocently and he smiled in her neck.

“Can I have you again? Before leaving?” He whispered in her ear. She nodded, bending her leg slowly. He gripped her right hip whit his hand, while he slid inside her from behind. She moaned in response and he started moving delicately, his fingers brushing against her centre. She arched in response and he followed the arc of her neck with the tip of his nose until his teeth closed around the lobe of her ear. “Can I have you every night of my life?” He panted.

They came together.

And together they would have fought, back against back, scar after scar, with the only, powerful comfort of losing themselves in each other’s arms in the cold nights. There would have been pain, blind fear, but never regret.

It didn’t belong to them.

They had tasted love, that was the nourish of their days.

And if they would have died, the death would have been sweeter.

If not, spring would have come.

* * *

 

Island of Tarth, Spring, five years later.

 

“Again, please, again!”

Jaime chuckled, amused. “Really Jo? Again? It’s the third time I tell you this story.”

“But it’s my favourite, daddy.” Johanna said, looking at him with those puppy eyes made of sapphires that had become his new favourite trap. “Last time, ok?”

“Yep, mommy that beats the bear!” She said excited, climbing on his knees, gripping his stump to seat on his legs.

She had never been troubled by it.

He kissed her forehead. “Ok Jo, so..once upon a time a blond, tall and strong lady warrior was captured by a bunch of villains that threw her in a pit with a big ferocious bear.”

“Was it really big, right daddy? The biggest?”

“The biggest Jo, I’m not even kidding.” He said, loving how Jo’s eyes widened in surprise. “The warrior was so strong that those scumbags only gave her a wooden sword to defend herself and nothing else.”

“Mommy would have won even with a sword made of flowers, daddy.”

“Of course, Jo.” Jaime smiled. “Anyway, it was even more difficult because she was trapped in a very pink and very long gown...”

“Ewwww.” Jo commented, wrinkling her nose in that childish way that was so typically Lannister. “Mommy doesn’t wear pink and she doesn’t wear gowns, I don’t believe you.” She added, chuckling out loud against his shoulder. Jaime followed her laughter. “I swear Jo. I’ve told you this tale hundreds of time and you never believe me on this.”  
“Sorry daddy, go on.”

He kissed her another time on the forehead. “So, you have to know that the bear hadn’t eaten for days, maybe weeks.. not even a little bowl of honey..”

“Poor bear.”

“Poor bear indeed, but you know.. “

“Does he have a name?”

“Who?”

“The bear, daddy.” Jo said, almost exasperated.

“Of course it doesn’t have a name, Jo.”

“Why not?” She almost screamed.

“Because it’s a bear?!”

“Can we give him a name?”

Jaime sighed. “Let’s give him a name, Jo.”

“Selwyn.”

Jaime had to fight back the laughter. “You want to call him like your brother?”

“Yes, he snores like a bear.” She explained carefully. “And he stinks like a bear too.”

“Johanna.”

“You stink too, boys stink.” She said amused, curling up her nose.

“Johanna, behave!” He said, not really convinced.

“Sorry daddy, go on!”

“Yes, so.. this bear..”

“Selwyn!”

“Selwyn!” He corrected himself, sighing. “He was really really hungry and your mommy was a very delicious morsel.”

“She’s still very delicious..”

“She’s the most delicious one, but don’t tell her I’ve told you that.” He said seriously. “Anyway, the bear was ready to attack her, he was so ferocious Jo, so big and so hungry.. but then..”

“The most beautiful knight in the Seven Kingdoms arrived, saving her.” Jo finished for him, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“I bet he becomes more handsome every time he tells you the story, right, Jo?” A voice interrupted them.

“Mommyyy!” Johanna screamed, leaving Jaime’s lap and running toward her mother, hugging her leg tightly. Brienne caressed her daughter’s hair, holding Selwyn in her arms.

Jaime smiled, looking at them. “Do you disagree?” He asked her, pretending seriousness.

“Mommy, daddy thinks you’re a delicious morsel.” Jo whispered, looking up at her.

“He thinks what????” Brienne asked alarmed, blushing adorably.

_She won’t ever get used to my bluntness the same way I won’t ever get used to her innocence._

“What’s a morsel?” Selwyn asked her.

“Jo, little traitor, come back here.” Jaime said amused.

The kid came back to his father. “But daddy, you’ve never told me one thing.. you had already left for King’s Landing.. then why did you come back?”

Jaime’s words almost got trapped in his throat, then he looked at Brienne and they shared a knowing smile.

“I dreamed of her.”

He whispered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I'm crying. I know this won't ever happen in the show, that's why I wanted to make it happen, at least, in my story. I'd love to see Jaime as a father again, father of children he can truly love openly. Anyway, if you liked my story and you can spend a bunch of seconds to make me know about it, you'll make me very happy.  
> I have a new AU moder-setting trapped in my mind since months, let's see if it will come out, hope you'll be at board:)


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